


Mine

by fraldariuwus (sakesword)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Love, Love Bites, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Sex, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesword/pseuds/fraldariuwus
Summary: After one of Sylvain's many proposals, Dorothea and Sylvain share an intimate evening in her quarters at the Gautier estate.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Sylvain and Dorothea’s endcard where she finally marries him after more than ten proposals. This takes place after perhaps(?) the penultimate proposal. Azure Moon route, but there are no spoilers.
> 
> Written as a part of a trade with @sylvthea on Twitter! They have amazing art, a lot of Dorovain, please check out their works!

  
  


Another evening in Gautier,  _ another _ ring. This one even more opulent than the last: large marquise cut diamond, filigreed platinum band accented with pavé emeralds—Sylvain’s taste is improving at least. But fancy stones and luxurious gifts and the freshest blooms can be just as empty as every relationship Sylvain has ever had.

What Dorothea has always yearned for is something else: a partner who sees her for herself, who  _ loves _ her for herself, something she can’t say she’s ever been able to do. Though she’d been flattered, even hopeful, when her school and wartime fling, the handsome future Margrave Gautier, had conveyed his intention to win her over, Dorothea isn’t naive.  _ Sylvain commit? Sylvain repent? _

The original reason she agreed to this courtship was  _ that _ conversation—the one where Sylvain told her he wanted to grow old with her, where she told him she’d stay by his side. But maybe it was a mistake to accept his invitation to Faerghus based on that conversation alone; maybe it was just a fluke, an accidentally perfect combination of words that had tumbled from Sylvain’s lips when he’d run out of pickup lines and hollow  _ I love yous _ .

Tucking the ring into the mahogany jewelry box to join the rest of them, pulling Sylvain’s cloak more tightly around her dressing gown, Dorothea sits at a simple wooden desk, staring out the norman window of her guests’ quarters at the Gautier estate. The moon hangs full in the sky, a mist of thin clouds floats past. It’s frigid in the North, not only the temperature—the people, the architecture, all is cistercian, functional over frivolous—how did Sylvain end up like _ that _ when he grew up _ here _ ?

A knock sounds at the door, one of the maids, Dorothea believes her name is Jacqueline, calls from the hallway, “Lady Arnault, may I please come in?”

There’s not much to be done, it’s getting late, Sylvain could come here himself to check on her if that’s what this is. Dorothea considers turning her away, but it’s not the poor girl’s fault, “Please do.”

The handmaiden bows as she steps inside and surveys Dorothea’s sleeping chamber, “My lady, you’ll catch a cold if you leave the window open at night.”

“Right you are.” Before Jacqueline can scurry over to help her, Dorothea rises from her chair, grasping the heavy iron frame of the window as she pushes it closed. It feels wrong to sit there like some Queen and allow the servants to accomplish even simple tasks like this in her stead.

“Would you like me to stoke the hearth, my lady?” That does sound perfect, but again Dorothea doesn’t need assistance, she channels a Fire spell and the logs are soon alight. “Oh, my lady, excellent, I had forgotten about your talent in Reason.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dorothea says in a gentle tone as she smiles at Jacqueline, only seeing her own reflection in those striking green eyes. “Retire early tonight, and if Sylvain argues, let him know it was my command and if he could bring me some wine that would be lovely, as well.”

Jacqueline almost protests, but she closes her mouth, likely remembering the briefing when Dorothea first arrived, the briefing where Sylvain informed the house staff they are to treat Dorothea’s word as his own. Dorothea would never use this power to do anything other than improve the quality of life of those employed by House Gautier.

Once Jacquline departs, Dorothea is alone again, a state she’s grown accustomed to; after growing up an orphan, after never knowing who of those she loved would return after a battle during the war. Dorothea shudders at the recollection, but finds comfort in the warmth of the hearth as she settles onto the plush bench facing it. Sylvain’s cloak smells like him, the fresh citrusy fragrance intermingles with that of the burning logs transforming her otherwise bleak suite into an acceptable approximation of the Knight’s Hall at Garreg Mach.

Just a bit more gazing into the flames, a drink, and to bed, Dorothea sighs, imbibing the relaxing atmosphere until another knock interrupts her, the Margrave himself has deigned to make an appearance, “Thea, are you decent?”

As if her being indecent would stop Sylvain from entering, Dorothea rolls her eyes before calling, “Did you bring the wine, darling?”

The door to Dorothea’s room creaks as Sylvain enters with two pewter goblets and a flagon on a serving tray, “Request fulfilled.”

“I don’t remember requesting a second tankard,” she teases.

The desperate, pleading expression wrought across Sylvain’s face makes Dorothea chuckle as he asks, “Would you honor me by sharing this wine with me?” 

“You may have one drink.” Dorothea is well aware it will be more than one.

“Are you enjoying the manor? The fire, my cloak…” Sylvain smiles as he sets the platter down on the low table and joins Dorothea on the settee, “you’re ravishing in black.”

“You, as well,” Dorothea blushes, she can’t deny how attractive Sylvain is in his casual evening attire either, “Could you please pour the wine?”

Sylvain obliges, leaning forward to serve them both, raising his glass to Dorothea’s, “To us. And our future together.”

“I still haven’t accepted your proposal,” Dorothea reminds Sylvain as she clinks her cup with his and takes a sip, “Excellent wine, though.”

“Almyra’s finest, only the best for the future Margravine.”

“Sylvie, let’s take a night off from all of that. Let’s just have fun, shall we play a game?” Since Garreg Mach, games have always been a way to connect, a way to escape. The light-hearted diversions are like arrows on Pegasi against the demands of nobility, the violence of the battlefield, the watchful eyes of Seiros.

“Of course,” Sylvain agrees, “Maybe  _ Never Have I Ever _ ?” The cozy ambience must be conjuring nostalgia tonight as the image of the first time they’d played  _ Never Have I Ever _ , late-night in the dormitories, forms in Dorothea’s mind. Hilda was there, Petra, Ingrid… come to think of it mostly other female students had partaken. They’d all broken out into uncontrollable laughter when Ingrid laid into Sylvain, publicly sharing possibly deep, dark secrets as if they were nothing. Dorothea’s lips curl into a smile as she reminisces about that simpler time. “Is that a yes?”

“Which version did you want to play?” Dorothea asks.  _ The Officer’s Academy or the adult, wartime edition? _

“I’m open to either,” Sylvain winks, “I just want to spend time with you.”

Dorothea reads his unsubtle suggestion, considers it, “Alright, but  _ I  _ choose the questions.”

“I accept.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, why not?” Sylvain shrugs.

“Okay, let’s begin,” Dorothea sets the pace by clutching for the low hanging fruit, “never have I ever lied to a childhood friend.”

Sylvain immediately raises his cup and takes a deep gulp, gasping as he removes his lips from the goblet, “Well, that one was too easy, what do you want me to take off? You already stole my cloak...”

Shirt? Breeches? Boots? With Sylvain not in armor this could be over quite quickly, Dorothea decides to prolong it somewhat, “Boots.”

Bending toward the floor, Sylvain unlaces his boots, then sets them neatly to the side of the bench.

Dorothea continues, “Never have I ever skipped professor Byleth’s class for a tryst.”

Sylvain lifts the tankard again, but pauses, he almost looks wounded when he says, “You have! Did you forget? I certainly remember.” A flush spreads across Dorothea’s cheeks as she recalls that one time… “Cloak off, please.”

“You seem to be quite happy we’re playing this version,” Dorothea comments as she unveils her satiny rose nightdress. Though the fire is roaring enough for the cloak no longer to be necessary for warmth, Dorothea cuddles up to Sylvain anyway. Something about him always puts her at ease, lets her be free.

“I’m guilty too.” Sylvain nudges her, “you haven’t told me what to remove.”

The orange glow of flames flickers upon Sylvain’s handsome face as Dorothea studies her partner, she just wants to brush her fingers over his cheekbones, “Shirt…”

Withdrawing from Dorothea, Sylvain swiftly unbuttons his shirt, effortlessly folding it and placing it on the table in front of them. Dorothea can’t help but admire the white scars that crisscross all over Sylvain’s muscular torso. One in particular draws her attention, one he earned diving in between Dorothea and the point of an Empire lance. An eternal reminder that no matter where each of them hails from, Sylvain will protect her. “Enjoying the view?”

Dorothea doesn’t take the bait just yet, instead prompting Sylvain again, “Never have I ever proposed to someone who isn’t Dorothea Arnault.”

Sylvain stares at her blankly before he states, “Next.”

“You haven’t?”

“No,” Sylvain’s tea-colored gaze cuts through Dorothea, “I haven’t. Your turn to drink. All of it.” Adhering to the rules, Dorothea finishes the half-glass that remains; this wine is  _ strong _ . “You’re so beautiful.”

“I... know.” Dorothea isn’t sure she can continue this game with Sylvain’s eyes devouring her and the harsh buzz of the plush wine, “Sylvain.”

“Thea?”

“If you want me… If you really want to be with me,” Dorothea starts.

“Yes?”

“You need to show me.” What Dorothea intended to express was her wish to see Sylvain's sincere side, but maybe the years and years of flirting have ingrained themselves in her pattern of speech, for Sylvain responds by pressing his lips against hers.

Suddenly Gautier is Ailell; the hearth, the cloak, the wine, Sylvain… Goddess, he’s intoxicating, always has been… even back when he’d lied to her about loving every girl he’d courted, lied about loving Dorothea. Each time Sylvain kisses her, Dorothea forgets everything else exists, there’s no death, no nobility, no Crests, no superficiality, just the two of them, infinite if but for a moment.

Threading her fingers through the waves of his hair, tasting the tannins lingering on his lips, Dorothea shifts closer to Sylvain on the settee, opening her mouth to kiss him back. As Sylvain’s tongue licks at her own, as her soft curves spill against his tight muscles, Dorothea is already throbbing in her core. There’s no denying where this is headed if Dorothea follows Sylvain’s lead--if she lets him do what he wants, if she gives into what  _ she  _ wants.

With Sylvain’s hair wrapped taut around her fingers, Dorothea pulls him off of her with a somewhat forceful tug, “Sylvain, I...”

“Thea, I love you.” Sylvain interjects, “You’re the only one for me.”

Dorothea is taken aback by the intensity of the statement, “Do you truly mean it?”

“I do,” Sylvain cradles her hand between both of his, staring directly into her eyes, “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you at the Officer’s Academy. Even before we spoke, when you were still in the Black Eagles, I could never stop thinking about you. And I never will.”

“You… never told me that before.” Dorothea blushes.

“I’m telling you now,” Sylvain’s tone is gentle but sure, “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want to spend my life with you. I’ve only loved you more every day, you’ve made me realize so many things about myself. Don’t you remember what we said?”

“What did we say...?” Dorothea’s voice trails off.

“That we would be together until we’re grandparents. That we would stay together forever.”

The sound of Dorothea’s heart beating drowns out everything else.  _ Sylvain said it _ . She has no eloquent soliloquy, no witty retort, no aria verse, but sometimes words aren’t necessary. Sometimes a kiss is enough.

Sylvain’s eyes widen, then shut as Dorothea’s lips meet his once more. The passionate caress of his tongue only deepens her desire; Dorothea kneels over Sylvain, straddling him on the settee. Sylvain holds her waist lightly as he gazes up, sparkling with adoration, “You’re gorgeous.”

“So are you.” It’s been impossible to resist Sylvain in the past, especially as familiar as Dorothea is with his prowess, but now that he’s said it, this means something else. It’s already so much more fulfilling when he touches her breasts through the thin silk of her nightgown, gently at first, cupping them from underneath, then sliding the fabric with the side of his fingers over her nipple. Sylvain doesn't waste time before his thumbs swipe over the exposed flesh of Dorothea’s cleavage and his hands begin to knead.

“May I?” Grasping the thin straps, Sylvain gestures that he would like to remove her dress.

“Please.” Dorothea’s fingers fumble to hike the slip up to rest at the top of her thighs. Just as soon, Sylvain’s calloused hands drag along her supple skin to pinch the ruffled hem and slide the garment up over Dorothea’s body. The silky material catches on her large breasts, lifting them until the dress is fully removed and they bounce back to their original position.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Sylvain says as he adds the nightgown to the pile where his cloak lays. Now that Dorothea is in only her smallclothes, now that Sylvain is hard beneath her, now that his hands return to where they were, now that he licks along her collarbone as he plays with her nipple, Dorothea keens from the overpowering intimacy, from the pleasurable jolts sparking through her from each touch of her beloved. “You like it?”

Dorothea can only confirm in the form of gasps when Sylvain starts sucking on her neck like he used to when they were students, and even during the war, gifting Dorothea those small reminders she wore so well beneath her collar. It’s hot and sharp and everything she needs. Goddess, what he’s able to do to her, Dorothea closes her eyes and surrenders, letting her body react to the searing pressure. Dorothea has to stop herself from forcing Sylvain back onto her when he releases to admire his work.

“Is it bad?” Dorothea asks, tensing as Sylvain swipes his tongue over the raw skin.

“It’s good.”

A primal urge within tells Dorothea to return the favor, “Lean back.”

Sylvain obeys, arching up to display his neck, tilting his head back over the edge of the settee. There’s a faint saline quality to Sylvain’s skin as Dorothea sucks adjacent to his Adam's apple. The vibrant note of his cologne is concentrated here, Dorothea can almost taste it when she nibbles softly, then harder.

Sylvain’s grip on her breast goes slack as he inhales sharply, “I’m yours.”

_ He’s mine _ . Dorothea draws back, the purplish-red bruise seems lonely, she takes her time adding another to the crook of Sylvain’s neck, then one to his chest. The  _ thump, thump _ of Sylvain’s heart is deafening as she purses her lips just above his nipple. There’s something so satisfying about leaving these marks, about Sylvain enjoying her leaving these marks; Dorothea only stops when it is somewhat painful to continue.

“Had enough?” Sylvain strokes through her curls as he settles back down onto the seat.

The bites suit him, Dorothea curls her manicured fingers over the one on his chest, reveling in watching Sylvain shiver, “Yes.”

“Goddess, Thea. What am I going to do with you?” Sylvain asks himself before wedging his hand between them to cup Dorothea’s pussy through her lacy undergarments, “I want to make you come.”

It’s not even the pressure that makes her ache for more of Sylvain’s touch, it's the words, the husky tone of his voice, “Please.”

When Sylvain uses his impressive strength to turn her around in his lap so she faces the fire, Dorothea absolutely melts, leaning back, spreading her legs just as Sylvain reaches over her body and his hand descends beneath her smallclothes. “You’re so wet.”

Dorothea trembles as Sylvain swipes his fingers over her mound, slipping one, then another inside. The heat of it all only intensifies with Sylvain’s muscular chest now crowded up against her back and Dorothea’s long auburn tresses trapped between them as Sylvain tilts forward to sink deeper into her slit so she is nearly sitting on his palm. His thumb remains on her clit, rubbing, as the fingers inside press on the sensitive inner wall of Dorothea’s cunt.

“Fuck,” Dorothea manages.

“This is all for you.” Goosebumps prickle on Dorothea’s skin as his breath blows past her already sensitive neck and his tongue begins to lap at her. Waves of pleasure cascade through her body causing Dorothea’s eyes flutter shut as she cants her hips in time with the quickened motion of Sylvain’s thumb. How is she so close already?

So lost in ecstasy, so lost in Sylvain, Dorothea doesn’t notice the liquid pooling beneath her on the settee, until the slick sounds that emanate from Sylvain’s fingers plunging in and out alert her. Though she’d like to just surrender to Sylvain, observing the darkened, sodden fabric beneath her fills Dorothea with a sense of guilt; she can’t ignore the fact that someone is going to have to clean up after them.  _ Jacqueline _ .

Dorothea clutches his wrist, “Sylvain, stop…”

“Is something wrong?” He seems worried.

“Let’s go to bed, darling.”

“I like it like this though,” Sylvain says, lowering his voice, “I like it when you sweat.”

“It’s the fire, and you… you’re making me hot.”

“I know I am.” Lines like these truly are second nature to Sylvain. Dorothea used to be somewhat ashamed that she was so susceptible to them, but these days she lets herself fall for them, sometimes dishes them back.

“I’ll sweat just as much in bed with you.”

And with that, Sylvain pulls Dorothea back into his lap, barely straining as he lifts and carries her to the bed, gently tossing her onto the mattress. When Sylvain takes control of her like this, it awakens the basest part of Dorothea’s psyche. Internally, she’s begging for Sylvain to lunge at her, to pin her sweaty body down, to kiss her again… and that is exactly what he does.

Sylvain is  _ heavy _ , but it is so fulfilling to lie beneath him, even if it's somehow hotter than it was in front of the fire. Nothing matters except Sylvain’s tongue in her mouth, the drag of her fingers along his masculine jawline, the press their sweat-soaked chests together.

Dorothea is panting when Sylvain pulls back to say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she admits it quietly, roughly.

“I want you to tell me more often.”

“I will…” Dorothea will try. Could this become their new normal?

“Good.” There is so much warmth in his voice as Sylvain begins to kiss a trail down Dorothea’s body, swirling his tongue around her nipple before proceeding further. Each peck of his lips causes Dorothea to tense in anticipation for when he finally reaches the supple skin of her stomach and hooks his hands underneath her smallclothes to nudge them down, then off. 

“I love you,” Sylvain says it again before he buries his face in her folds.

Unsurprisingly, Sylvain starts slowly; he always savors the experience of pleasuring her, loves it when Dorothea is absolutely desperate to come, when she practically  _ makes _ him make her come. But tonight isn’t the night for Sylvain’s teasing, he already brought her close by the fire. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Dorothea urges Sylvain toward her clit.

“Darling,” she groans, “please.” Thank the Goddess, Sylvain actually listens, increasing the pressure on her aching nub. Softening her grasp, Dorothea winces when he vibrates his tongue over her clit. When he applies himself Sylvain can do anything, Dorothea’s already trembling with every stroke. “More.”

It _was_ too good to be true; Sylvain does the opposite, withdrawing even as Dorothea arches her hips toward his mouth.  _ Not this time.  _ Tugging Sylvain’s hair like reins, Dorothea jerks his head back, pushing him onto her, refusing to let go until she’s sure he is actively trying to bring her closer, until Sylvain’s fingers return to inside of her and he sucks on her clit in earnest.

“Fuck, Sylvain,” Dorothea moans as the shockwaves course through her, “I love you.”

It just slips out; Dorothea hadn’t even meant to say it, but maybe she should have. As soon she does, Sylvain shifts into overdrive, utilizing the expert techniques he typically saves for the finale in a full onslaught that Dorothea is powerless to resist. The rumble within her transforms to a quake as Sylvain sucks harder, curls his fingers faster. Legs shaking, twisting, fingers digging into Sylvain’s scalp, Dorothea writhes on the mattress as she comes apart. 

Even as Dorothea’s thighs squeeze together, as she bites her lip, mewling and panting, Sylvain doesn’t relent, extending the release until she has to use what remains of her strength to pull him off of her again. Contemplating the ceiling of her quarters with an almost bewildered expression on her face after receiving such uncompromising pleasure from the man she loves, Dorothea’s arms drop to the mattress as she catches her breath.

Sylvain has always been insatiable, and this is no different, Dorothea barely has a moment before Sylvain returns to her, nuzzling up to Dorothea’s side, his hand tilting her mouth up to meet his. The taste of herself on his lips is nothing new to Dorothea as she kisses him back somewhat sloppily, still overwhelmed by the natural high of her orgasm.

Their kiss doesn’t once break as Sylvain snakes his arm beneath Dorothea, rolling her to lie on top of him. It’s sticky between them, a combination of their sweat and the slick and saliva between her thighs, he’s hard even after focusing all of his affection on Dorothea’s pleasure.

This time Dorothea tests the phrase on purpose, “I love you.”

“I love you, Thea.” All dimples and rosy cheeks, Sylvain beams. “I’m so happy.” Sylvain's smile makes Dorothea’s heart full, makes Dorothea’s heart flutter. She’d do anything to please him, even in her weakened, euphoric state, she says nothing as she lowers herself to between Sylvain’s legs, unlacing his breeches, and nudging them down. “Thea?”

“Off,” Dorothea commands, giving Sylvain the space to shimmie out of his smallclothes and free his cock. Though she’s done this countless times, it’s always staggering just how big it is. Sylvain shudders, cursing  _ fuck _ as Dorothea opens her mouth to take in as much of his length as she can. Even though she gags each time Sylvain hits the back of her throat, Dorothea continues bobbing her head. The moans that escape Sylvain, the way his hand gets tangled in her locks as she darts her tongue tells Dorothea to give him everything she has.

“You’re too good at that,” Sylvain sighs, his fingers drag through Dorothea’s long hair, along her back as he tries to direct her up toward him, “Let me fuck you.” The neediness in his tone is lovely, Dorothea teases Sylvain by licking a stripe up his shaft again, delighting in how his breath hitches as he murmurs, “Come here.”

“Say please.”

“Please,” Syvlain says immediately.

Dorothea’s pussy slides over Sylvain’s cock as she pushes back up on the bed to sit on top of him. Goddess, Sylvain looks amazing, goddess, Sylvain looks ready.

“Do you want me on top?”

Sylvain nods eagerly, squinting as Dorothea spreads herself and lowers onto his cock deliberately, until he’s sheathed within her pussy as deep as he can be. Rising from the mattress to sit up, Sylvain starts to pump into her, he must be nearly at his limit from how he’s panting, his eyes screwed shut. Sylvain is so alluring when he’s captivated like this, when he’s craving like this. Dorothea wraps her arms around Sylvain as he instinctively fumbles with her clit, it’s likely for naught, but this isn’t only about Dorothea, it’s about them.

It’s enough to see Sylvain in rapture, to be complete with him, to be one. To realize she will always be by his side. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Sylvain breathes, rutting harder, exhaling as Dorothea rakes her nails down his back, “I wanna marry you.”

Even as they both keen, he says it; even as he grasps her waist and lifts her up along his cock. Why does it mean so much more now than when he’d expressed the same intention so many other times, in so many romantic locations, with so many exquisite gifts preceding it, in so much more flowery language? “Sylvain!” 

“Fuck, Thea, your tits,” Sylvain groans, as he forces her back down onto his cock, “gonna come.”

“Come, darling.” Dorothea clenches her pussy around him.

Loosening his grip on her waist, exhaling heavily, Sylvain shakes as he spills inside, filling Dorothea with his seed. There's an unspoken trust between them, Dorothea knows she's the only one Sylvain Jose Gautier would share this part of himself with. Overcome by their connection, Dorothea embraces Sylvain just as he embraces her.

They collapse onto the mattress together, Sylvain’s cock still inside of her, his features softened by the glow in his eyes and on his cheeks.

“That was so good,” Dorothea coos, lying next to the mark on his chest she made earlier.

“I love you.”

There's a reverent silence before Dorothea returns the phrase. She's entranced by sounds of the pounding of Sylvain’s chest and both of their slight, ragged breathing. This is the most peaceful Dorothea has felt in years, she could actually fall asleep right now, if Sylvain didn't stroke his hand over her hip bone.

“I love you,” Dorothea mumbles before she closes her eyes and envisions their future together. A life with Sylvain might not be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, it's the first trade I've done, it was a great experience trying to get into the Dorovain dynamic. I always found their ending to be one of the most romantic in the game, plus they are both so sexy!
> 
> I'm on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/fraldariuwus)


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